


Leaving out the destruction of your love

by keysburg



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, F/M, I Blame Tumblr, I will admit this totally got away from me, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sorry Not Sorry, peggysous, there's a few feels but it's pretty light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 20:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5553470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keysburg/pseuds/keysburg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel Sousa is not the pushover everyone expects him to be...  (my attempt to dewoobify Daniel a little, via smut)  (Office sex written between S1 and S2)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaving out the destruction of your love

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Elle King's "Under the Influence" which makes a pretty good soundtrack...

“Welcome to L.A.,” he said, smiling. He didn’t know how he could still be so mad at her and happy to see her anyway. Maybe it was just Peggy. He had felt this way before, holding a gun on her in an alleyway, torn between duty and faith. Faith in her. Some dames were just like that, he supposed. Nothing but trouble, turning a man against himself. Ultimately his faith had borne out but that didn’t mean her tactics were okay. She had done some very not okay things. And she hadn’t learned, either. If anything, she got away with more once Thompson became Acting Chief. 

He hadn’t missed it since he moved west and he didn’t need it. He missed the thrum of the other city and he missed bagels, but not the conflict. He showed Peggy to the desk she was going to be using, got her set up with an agent to help her and went back into his office--the one that had “Chief Sousa” painted on the door in gold and black. He closed it firmly, completely intending to stay out of her investigation.

Of course he got involved.

Of course it went FUBAR, again. That wasn’t exactly her fault, he supposed. That was just their jobs and it probably would have gone even worse if she hadn’t been there. That didn’t mean he had to like getting drawn into it. It was over now, and she should be on her way home, out of his life again. It should be quiet, even if he was left with a mountain of paperwork. 

And it was quiet too, because it was getting very late. Almost silent even, the air having kicked off for the night and only the barest rumble of a car driving by outside. It was easier to focus on paperwork when he didn’t have agents in his office all the time. He had established an open-door policy here in L.A. and it worked pretty well. Sometimes he understood why Dooley had taken a different tack with his office, but he knew it would never work for him. There were plenty of ways for a clever chief to get his agents out of the office when needed, but sometimes you just had to work late. 

He was making pretty good progress getting the mission forms filled out in triplicate, weaving the different agent reports into one narrative, when the silence was broken. It was the unmistakeable sound of heels on tile and he sighed, honestly expecting one of the secretaries to enter through the door. Women in California turned out to be much more forward than in New York, and it seemed like he had been fending off advances left and right. But even if he was okay with abusing his authority that way--which he was not--he had the impression that none of those women really saw him. They saw the war hero, the chief, but not him. 

He was relieved and frustrated then when Peggy came through his office door without knocking, locking it behind her. She was infuriating and he hated that he felt like this, just because she walked into the room and stood before his desk. 

“Carter,” he said evenly. “You’re supposed to be on a plane home right now.”

“Howard said he’d take me tomorrow,” she said. “I didn’t like the way we had left things.” He just looked at her, waiting for her to go on. “Daniel, I believe I owe you an apology,” she said, biting at her lip. He shook his head.

“You can keep it--it’s over. I don’t want to talk about what happened in New York. We’ll call it water under the bridge.”

“It seems like you’re still holding it against me. And I find I don’t like that you’re upset.” 

“You should know better than most--you can’t always go back to how things were before, Peg.”

“I know. And some hurts can’t be soothed by apologies. But sometimes you can move on from them?” The question in her voice was underscored by a little break in her voice, and her eyes were welling with tears. Margaret Carter, stalwart agent of the SSR, was crying in his office. He felt bad, he did, but also a tiny bit--vindicated? That was ugly, and he hated himself for it.

“It’s just not possible,” he said, unable to stop his voice from softening--which was a mistake, because she walked around the desk then, hitching a hip on the left corner of his desk like one of his male agents. But she wasn’t and didn’t she know what she was doing to him? She was focused on his face and he was sure she didn’t mean to sit in a way that dragged the hem of her skirt up. It was just enough to provide a peek at the lace tops of her stockings. He turned his head to look straight at his door instead. At the backwards writing on the glass. 

“Why--?”

“You make me dream,” he said. “And I’d rather spend my life building things of my own, than losing myself in things I will never have.”

“It’s not fair to put your fears on me,” she said. It sounded like she was pouting and before he knew it, he was standing. He had to catch the edge of the desk to avoid swaying on his prosthetic but he was too angry to be thinking about things like balance. He heard his chair roll into the wall as he growled down at her. 

“I. Am not. Afraid.” The surprise on her face almost undid him right there, her mouth dropped open in shock, her eyes wide but not afraid. He swallowed carefully, taking a firm hand on himself before going on. “It’s you, Peggy. You’re smart and you’re talented and I think we make great partners, or we would--if you could let someone in and listen to someone else once in awhile. But I’m not sure you know how to be a partner, how to let someone else lead. You’ve built this wall around yourself and I don’t think you know how to relinquish control,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “And as much as I--care for you--I need that sometimes. Maybe if I was a better man, I wouldn’t. But I do.”

“What if I could?” His eyes flew open at that. They were already close, too close, but as he watched, she slid herself from the corner of the desk to sit on it fully. Her left leg brushed by his and then by his prosthetic, so that her knees framed his thighs. He looked up and she leaned back on her hands. It made her back arch and presented all her assets in a very attractive manner. He felt heat rush into his cheeks--and other places. 

“Peg,” he said, warning in his tone. “That’s not fair. I wasn’t even talking about that. I was talking about work and life in general.”

“I know,” she said. She sat up, putting her hands on his shoulders, then running her hands down his arms, her fingers warm through his shirt sleeves. He seldom wore his jacket in the office but right now he wished he had it on as he felt very exposed. She circled her fingers loosely around his wrists and dragged his hands up to sit on her waist. “This just seems like the most immediate way prove myself to you.” She licked her cherry lips, looking at his. If she had kissed him, he could have resisted. He would have thrown her out, unwilling to follow her lead again. Instead, she closed her eyes, leaned back on her hands again and waited. 

Her breathing had grown shallow, excited. It didn’t take very long for it to fray his resolve. He shuffled forward, closing the gap between their bodies, feeling her body heat surround him. He leaned down, slowly, and pressed his lips to the hollow at the base of her throat. He felt as well as heard her whimper, the little swallow that followed it, and then the tremble of her body as she forced herself to stay still. His lips and tongue traced a path along her collarbone, to the edge of her blouse’s neckline and then down along it. When he reached the bottom of the v, he pulled back to look at her. When she didn’t react, he slid his hands up slightly to tug her shirt out from where it was tucked into her skirt. She lifted her arms so he could drag it over her head. She shivered as he tossed it away but kept her eyes closed. He slid his hands up the smooth flesh of her back to the clasp of her bra and tucked his head into her neck, pressing kisses up along her jawline while he undid the clasp. 

When he reached her ear, he exhaled softly. “Peggy. Unbutton my shirt, please.” He pulled away slightly to give her some room and was rewarded with watching her eyes flash open. She shrugged the bra off first, dropping it to the floor and then working his buttons open. Her hands hesitated when they reached his belt. “Hands back on the desk, now.” She obeyed, her eyes locked on his chest as he slipped his shirt away and then peeled his undershirt up. Her breath got faster as her eyes ran along his chest and arms. All the swimming he had been doing in California had paid off and he couldn’t help but torture her a little.

“Close your eyes again.” Her eyes flashed to his first, some defiance showing, but she did as he said. He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, but he pressed his lips to hers to keep it from escaping. She opened under him, letting him deepen the kiss at his own pace, which was faster than he intended as his hands came back up to cup her heavy and oh-so-soft breasts in his hands, thumbs rubbing over and around the firm little nubs at their tips. Moans rose from her throat and he swallowed them down; he found himself grinding against her in time to them. The heat between them was growing damp as well and he tore himself away, gasping. She whimpered a little as he went but that quickly turned into a startled inhalation as he shoved his hands roughly under her skirt, up the inside of her thighs. The little scrap of satin covering her sex was already soaked through. He pushed his thumb roughly against it and he kissed her again, worrying her lips with his teeth as she ground her hips against his hand. He growled, frustrated with their positions and the awkward shuffling it would take to get her underthings off. Unless… he slid his fingers under, grasped, and twisted while he pulled. He was rewarded with a scrap of lace and satin in his hand and a gasp, Peggy’s eyes flying open.

He had managed to surprise the cool and collected Peggy Carter and indeed had her squirming against him. He put her right hand on his belt buckle while his other hand slid back under her skirt. She took the hint, working his pants open. He let his fingertips circle her entrance until his pants dropped. She got a hand wrapped around his length at the same time he pushed two fingers into her, with the result of them groaning in unison. It was entirely too much, so he brushed her hands away, grabbing her knees and pulling her against him. Again she took his cue and wrapped her legs around him, hips shifting up and down until… there, finally he was inside her and he groaned again. She smiled up at him as he stilled, letting them both adjust. He felt his eyes narrow as she began rocking against him. He pushed his weight down and into her then, forcing her still. The shoe on his prosthetic slid a little on the floor but his weight stilled her motion. He could feel the ache building where his stump was supporting him inside his prosthetic. It was a dim concern, far less noticeable than where he was buried in Peggy’s wet heat. He used both hands to push her arms behind her, wrapping one hand around both her wrists to hold them there. It had the benefit of pushing their chests together and he swallowed a moan as he held her there, waiting. It felt like it took an eternity until she followed his lead again but finally she relaxed into it, dropping her head back and closing her eyes. He brought his free hand around, sliding it between their bodies and circling the little nub nestled between her folds. He managed not to move his hips until she started to clench around him, and it was an embarrassingly few thrusts before he followed her over the edge. Peggy looked beyond caring, as she more or less melted down onto the desk when he released her wrists. 

Somehow he managed to get his pants up without falling over and shuffled back to collapse in his chair. The stacks of paperwork that had been on his desk were now scattered all over the floor, with his pens, inbox, nameplate and their clothing with them. Even from there he could see some of the reports were smeared with sweat and dirt. After a minute, Peggy rolled up into a sitting position, stretching like a cat.

“Okay?” he asked. She smiled wickedly at him before hopping down to collect her clothes.

“There’s more benefits to your leadership than I anticipated. Any more orders for me, Chief Sousa?” He had to laugh, surveying the wreck of his office. 

“You can help me redo all these reports, Agent Carter.”


End file.
